


Melting Wax and Melting Hearts

by AU Mer-Maid (neonstardust)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Candles, Don't Let The Tags Fool You This Is Safe For Work, Gen, Hobbies, Kinktober 2019, Wax Play, Wax Seals, Wholesome Safe For Work Content In My Kinktober? Heck Yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-10-26 08:29:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20739260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonstardust/pseuds/AU%20Mer-Maid
Summary: Shirabu is a mystery Yahaba will never grow tired of trying to solve.The story in which Yahaba has too many candles, and Shirabu has a perfect solution.





	Melting Wax and Melting Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober Day 1 - Prompt: Wax Play

Shirabu Kenjirou is a mystery, Yahaba thinks.

One by one, Yahaba takes the candles out of the box and sets them on the countertop. An array of scents tickles his nose. Popping the lid off one, he breathes in the aroma of pumpkin pie spice and thinks of the Aoba Johsai Halloween party disaster that resulted in the virgin sacrifice of a volleyball and an hour-long scolding by the coach. Quickly, he closes the jar.

“I’m ready,” Shirabu says. Sitting at the far end of the peninsula bar, he sets down his tools. “Pick two.”

Yahaba nods. He pulls out a purple and yellow candle and frowns.

Shirabu drums his fingers on the counter. “This year, please.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Swapping them out for ocean breeze blue and midnight rain indigo, he hands them to Shirabu. “So, how’s this work?” He pulls over a barstool.

Without answering, Shirabu lights a tea candle. A small mahogany box rests near his elbow. Carefully opening it, he reveals a collection of tools. “Sealing wax works better,” he says. Selecting a small knife, he carves out a patch of blue wax.

Resting his chin in his hand, Yahaba watches him move on to the second candle. When Shirabu first offered to take the candles off Yahaba’s hands, he had thought Shirabu just liked candles as much as he used to before the Aoba Johsai Valentine’s Day Candle Apocalypse. To think Shirabu had hobbies that didn’t include volleyball or torturing the souls of the innocent was a surprise he was not prepared for.

Yet, Shirabu stirs the wax around the melting spoon with efficient care. His muscles relax, face serene. Light and dark blue swirl together into a liquid galaxy. Satisfied with the consistency, he pours the wax out on the envelope. It pools into a neat circle.

“You make this look easy,” Yahaba says.

Not taking his eyes off his work, Shirabu dips the stamp into some kind of substance before pressing it into the wax. “Everything is easy when you have more than two brain cells.”

“Oh?” Yahaba feigns surprise. “I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that, then?”

“Don’t test me when I’m holding hot utensils.” Shirabu points the spoon at him like it’s a knife. Setting it down, he pulls the stamp out. Yahaba frowns at the small seal, too dark to make out anything on it. Before he can voice a sarcastic remark, Shirabu dips his finger into a silver powder, dabbing it along the seal.

“Whoa.” Yahaba leans closer. The powder clings only to the inner pattern, revealing a crescent moon, a small star keeping it company. “That’s friggin’ cool.”

Shirabu shrugs. “It’s alright.”

“Hey, can you do pride colors?”

“Did you bring pride colors?” Shirabu asks, raising a challenging eyebrow.

Jumping from his chair, Yahaba runs back to the mountain of candles. A purple jar stands out, still mostly full, but the pinks are more elusive. He picks out a jar labelled “gentle rose,” but the muted color doesn’t match the deep tones of the purple. Bypassing “decadent cherry blossoms” and “blush bouquet,” he settles on a bright strawberry scented blend.

Shirabu cleans his stamp and returns it to its box. “I didn’t know you like candles.”

“Ah, I used to.” Yahaba slides the two new ones next to the dark blue, moving the ocean breeze jar out of their way. “They’re real soothing, you know?” He pops the lid off the first one. “I still got some at home, but I want to thin out the collection a bit.”

“A bit,” Shirabu repeats. His eyes scan over the pile of candles, counting well over twenty, before dropping down to the box Yahaba still hasn’t finished unpacking.

Yahaba shifts in his chair. “Why do you like seals, then?”

Picking up his knife, Shirabu scrapes out portions of wax from each candle. He layers them in the spoon in neat lines. As the tealight melts the wax, he stirs them together, creating an ocean of purple, pink, and blue. This time, he pours it out directly onto the faux marble countertop. Selecting a stamp from the open box, he presses it into the center.

“It’s just something to do.” Yanking the stamp out and dusting the seal off with powder, he lifts it off the counter and presses it into Yahaba’s palm with more care than is necessary for someone who claims to only be killing time.

Yahaba traces his finger along the heart in the center.

“I used this one”—he hands Yahaba a stamp emblazoned with the words Love is Love—“for the coming out letter I gave my parents.”

“Genius,” Yahaba breathes. Shrugging, Shirabu wanders off to pick out a candle himself.

Yahaba puts the stamp away and looks over the others, finding an assortment of shapes and words and letters. Setting down one of a cat with a curling tail, he glances over his shoulder to find Shirabu debating between a black Halloween candle and a green candle that smells like a forest after the morning dew has fallen.

It suits him, somehow, Yahaba realizes. He had always thought Shirabu’s only use for a lighter would be to burn down an enemy’s house, but watching him return to the table with his candle of choice, gingerly adding wax to the melting spoon, Yahaba realizes there’s a lot more to Shirabu than meets the eye.

“You don’t have to stay,” Shirabu says. He presses the stamp down a bit too hard, some of the wax bubbling over the outer rim. “You’ve probably got stuff to do. I’ll unpack the rest of ‘em.”

“Nah.” Leaning forward, he says, “Can I get one that’s brown and silver? With some purple?”

Shirabu discards the messy seal. “Why?” he asks, but he’s already moving to collect the colors. Thankfully, Yahaba brought a sandalwood candle with him.

“To remind me of you.” Yahaba smiles.

Shirabu’s face burns deep scarlet, and Yahaba immediately decides what color he wants the next seal to be.


End file.
